Thief By Knight: Chapter 8

Thief By Knight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Enjolras and Julien left most of their soldiers behind in Jonquierre, partly to help rebuild, but mostly to reassure the people that the few bandits who had managed to escape would not return to harass them. Grantaire was impressed. By now he had learned to expect nothing less from Enjolras, but it was rare to see the sons of a baron mingling so freely with the peasantry. From what everyone had told him, the baron and his family were much loved by the citizens of Cheval. Baron Pierre D'Cheval took care of his people, putting their needs before his own, and he had raised his children to do the same. Grantaire had lived in far too many places where the barons taxed their people to the point of starvation, then barely lifted a finger to protect them from people like Armand.

Despite the kindness everyone showed him, Grantaire found it hard to endure the next two days in Jonquierre. Mayor Quesnel told everyone how their "noble savior" had turned town his reward. Everywhere Grantaire went people showered him with praise, even during the funeral service. It was maddening. He was glad when they finally left.

Julien sent a messenger before they left for Touraine, to let the family know about events in Jonquierre and warn them of impending company. It took the better part of two days to reach the baron's castle. Grantaire found it a pleasant journey, with only Enjolras, Julien, Felix and a few guards for company. The guards were respectful, but unlike the townsfolk they didn't bombard him with chatter. Not that they had much of a chance. As soon as they were past the town gates, Julien bullied Enjolras, Grantaire and Felix into telling him about their adventures.

"Come on now," he said. "You, Enjolras, have been avoiding me -- your own brother. Well, now that everything in Jonquierre has been taken care of, I want to know what you've been doing since you left home."

Enjolras frowned at him. "But I did tell you, Julien."

"You told me you changed your mind about becoming a priest. It's been two years, Enjolras. You owe me more details than that."

Grantaire was surprised. "You were in a monastery for two whole years?" He couldn't imagine spending that much time with people who did nothing but quote scripture all day. No wonder Enjolras had a saintly quotation to go with every lecture. He could probably recite all of their writings by heart.

"A monastery is a very restful place," said Felix. "For one thing, they don't allow vagabonds like you inside their doors."

"Sounds awfully dull."

Julien chuckled. "What was it like Enjolras? You never told us about it."

"You never heard from him in all that time?"

"Of course he did, Grantaire." He might have been imagining things, but Grantaire thought Enjolras sounded a bit defensive. "I sent messengers."

"Oh yes. With notes saying I am well. Give everyone my love. That hardly counts as sending word. Father was furious."

"He was?" Enjolras looked worried.

"Not a week went by when Mother didn't have to talk him out of riding down there and dragging you back home."

"Dragging me back home? But I never told him where I was going."

"Well, it didn't take him long to find out. I guess you didn't cover your tracks as well as you thought."

Grantaire chuckled. The thought of Enjolras trying to sneak anywhere was amusing. "You didn't answer the question, Enjolras. Tell us what the monks were like. I hope they weren't all as crotchety as Felix here?"

Felix glared at him. "Didn't anyone teach you that disrespect for the clergy is a sin?"

"They tried. I didn't listen."

"Really, Grantaire. The monks and priests were quite good company. Abbot Ryere is a very learned man, and his order is devoted to those who share his love for knowledge. I think you would have liked it there."

"Me?"

"Father Bayard told me you were always full of questions. You would have found many answers at the monastery."

Grantaire thought about the dram-playing priest from Savin. He was the first person he'd men when he came to the town, alone and practically starving. Father Bayard had invited him, a complete stranger, into his empty church for a bowl of soup. And a game, of course. It became a tradition. He'd always liked the old priest, but it bothered him a little to think that he'd been the subject of their discussion. He wondered what else Father Bayard had said.

Grantaire realized the others were staring at him. "He told good stories. We weren't best friends or anything."

Felix snorted. "You probably tried to rob him, too." He turned to Julien. "That's how we met, you know. This ruffian cut my purse."

"Really?"

Grantaire glared at the priest. Did he have to tell everyone about his past? Enjolras's family didn't need to know he was a thief.

"That's right," he admitted, not looking at Julien. "I'm a thief."

"Grantaire was a thief. He gave that up to be my guide."

Grantaire shouldn't have been surprised by Enjolras's support. But it was still touching. He looked over at Julien. He didn't seem the least bit disgusted by Grantaire's past. Did his brother pick thieves up out of the gutter all the time?

"When did you decide to try for the Crown?"

"That happened just before I left the monastery. It wasn't a decision, exactly. I had a vision."

"A vision?"

"Yes." Enjolras looked uncomfortable. "It's what sent me to the monastery in the first place. I'd been having these dreams. I never told anyone other than our parents. It was hard to explain and..."

"You didn't think we'd believe you."

Enjolras gave him a rueful smile. "No, I didn't."

"I wish I could say you were wrong." Julien shook his head. "But if I hadn't seen you heal people with my own eyes, I don't think I'd believe it even now. So, you're telling me you're seeking the Crown because of some vision?"

"Yes. That is why Grantaire is with me, as well."

Julien stared at him. "You too?"

Grantaire laughed. "Oh, no. I definitely do not have visions. Neither does Felix. We leave that sort of thing to your brother."

"What about you, Father Felix?" Julien asked. "Why do you travel with my brother?"

Felix hung his head. "Abbot Ryere sent me. To--"

"Provide spiritual counsel," Enjolras interrupted. It was strange for him to be so rude, yet Felix seemed grateful.

"It certainly is an odd story," said Julien. "I'm afraid you're going to have a hard time convincing our father of this. He's already promised his support to Baron Reule. You know how stubborn he is -- it will take one of your miracles to make him see your side of things."

"I don't need to persuade him of anything, Julien. My decision has already been made." Despite the forcefulness behind his words, Enjolras did not look very sure of himself. Grantaire thought he might be intimidated by his father. It was an astonishing thought -- he had yet to meet the man who could intimidate Enjolras.

"In any event, it is the Archbishop who will choose the king. It matters little who Father or anyone else should decide to support."

"You know that's not true. If anyone besides D'Brucie is chosen, there will be a war. He'll make sure of that."

"D'Brucie?" asked Grantaire. "You mean the baron?"

Julien nodded. "He's been pushing to have himself named king ever since he was old enough to ride a horse. He's got the wealthiest barony and the most soldiers. He won't stand back and let someone else rule Cambrai."

Grantaire looked at Enjolras. "Is Armand's uncle one of his supporters?"

"Yes, Grantaire, he is. The attack on Jonquierre was probably meant to convince my father to withdraw his support for Baron Reule."

"Are you sure it's not because of you?"

"I doubt it," Julien answered. "No one knows about Enjolras's plans except for us."

Grantaire thought about Armand's probing questions. "I wouldn't be so sure of that. Not any more. Armand was awfully suspicious. You know, Enjolras, you might want to think about throwing your support to Baron Reule. This trip to San Sebastien is starting to look awfully dangerous."

"You know I can't do that, Grantaire."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

Julien sighed. "Enjolras, you've become even more stubborn than our father. I have a feeling it's going to be a very long night."

The first sight of the baron of Cheval's castle was something Grantaire would remember for as long as he lived. The sun was just beginning to set, its rosy light transforming this massive, stone structure into something magical. Surrounded on three sides by a calm lake, the castle seemed to rise up from out of the water.

"That," said Enjolras, "is my home."

Home. Enjolras said the word with pride, and well he should. Even when Grantaire's mother had been alive, he'd never known a home larger than a cabin. He couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like to be a child in a place like this.

"It's beautiful," said Felix.

It was. Grantaire looked at the small forms of the sentries pacing above the huge banners hanging from the ramparts. Surely those banners were blue and white, sporting the same unicorn that danced across Enjolras's shield. Grantaire longed to see the place in the full light of day. He looked at Enjolras. His friend stared at the castle as if he'd never seen it before. How could he have endured leaving a place like this?

Julien smiled and nudged his brother. "Come. They'll be expecting us."

As they rode up to the castle, Grantaire was pleased to see the unicorn did adorn those lofty banners. They snapped in the wind, a thrumming fanfare for the son coming home. They crossed the open draw-bridge, and the guards at the gate saluted them and welcomed Enjolras. Their escort left them, following the servants who came to take the horses. Grantaire forgot to warn the stable lad about his mare's wandering teeth. He was too busy looking around him, wanting to see everything. They passed through the enormous gates. Directly inside, life-sized statues of a knight and his lady flanked the entrance to the gate-house. Grantaire lingered, staring at them. The woman held a single rose and boasted a triumphant smile that surely could not have been carved in granite. Grantaire reached out a hand to brush the tips of his fingers against the statue. The stone was cold and hard beneath his touch, proof that the woman was not real. He turned to face the knight. He held a sword against his chest, proud and imposing. He looked a bit like Enjolras.

"Grantaire," he heard Felix whisper. "Quit dawdling."

He turned around. Felix stood next to him, scowling impatiently. Julien and Enjolras, walking a bit ahead, turned to look at him.

"Those were made in honor of Andrei and Giselle -- the first baron and baroness of Cheval," Enjolras explained. "You'll remember them from Jacques' story. Please, they are not for leaving messages."

It was the first time Enjolras had so much as alluded to Grantaire's defacing of the shrine. Enjolras had made a joke. Well, sort of. He must really be nervous about seeing his family again. Realizing they shouldn't be kept waiting, Grantaire hurried to join the others.

They hurried through the gate house, leaving Grantaire little time to marvel at its wonders. Despite the brass sconces lining the walls, there wasn't enough light to reach the ceiling that arched more than thirty feet above them. Grantaire thought he could see stained glass, and those might have been cherubs carved along the edges. The rest was lost in shadow.

Leaving the gate-house, they passed through a small courtyard and into a narrow entrance-way. Even this was elaborate -- the walls on either side of them were covered with intricate tiles carved from jade and ivory. One of them would buy Talley's Corner.

A man waited for them at the end of the passage. He wore a coat in the family colors, simple but finely made in rich satin. His silver hair lent dignity to his soft features. He smiled as they approached.

"Enjolras, welcome home."

Enjolras smiled and embraced the old man. Releasing them, he turned to face his companions. "My friends, I would like you to meet Iven, our family's oldest retainer. Iven, this is Grantaire and Father Felix."

Felix bowed and Grantaire shook Iven's hand. His grip was surprisingly strong. "Welcome to Cheval manor."

"Is the rest of the family at home?" asked Julien.

"The Baroness D'Cheval and Lady Vivien received your message -- they await you in the south parlor. I'm afraid the baron and your brothers won't be back until later, hopefully in time to join you for dinner. There was some trouble in the north -- bandits again."

"Nothing serious?"

"No, no." Iven patted Julien on the arm, as if he were an excitable child. "Set your mind at ease. They sent a messenger ahead -- all is well." He smiled at Enjolras. "They don't know you'll be home to greet them, my boy. It will be quite a surprise. But all that can wait. I have baths and clean clothing ready for you all. Surely you'd like to clean up after your journey?"

Enjolras nodded. "Thank you Iven. But I think Julien and I should speak to mother first. Grantaire, Felix, why don't you go with him?"

They both agreed, knowing Enjolras would want some time alone with his family. Iven led them through a maze of passages. Grantaire, distracted by the finery he saw everywhere, was hard pressed to commit them to memory. Even in his friend's home, he didn't feel comfortable not knowing his way around.

Iven chattered amiably as they walked. "It's good to have the young lord home again. The family is close, you see. None of the fighting and quarreling I've seen other nobles indulge in. Oh no, the baroness raised her children right. They're fond of each other, like brothers and sisters ought to be. Enjolras has been missed. He's a good boy, but I'll never understand why he ran off to that monastery. Begging your pardon, Father."

"No need," said Felix.

"Were you with Enjolras? At the monastery, I mean."

"Yes, I was. He was very studious."

Iven nodded proudly. "The baroness raised them all with a love of learning. That Julien, he's the smartest boy I've ever seen. Lady Vivien's a clever one, too. You'll meet her later."

With great effort, Grantaire kept himself from smiling. Iven was so dignified, and he didn't want the old man to think he was being laughed at. It was amusing to hear him talk about Enjolras and the others as if they were still children, to be dandled on his knee.

"What about you?" Iven asked. "How did you meet Enjolras?"

"He hired me as a guide." Grantaire gave Felix a warning look, and for once the priest decided not to mention his crimes.

"Hmph. Didn't think he'd need one. That boy knows his way around. But, from what I hear, it's a good thing he did hire you. When Verl came riding in with that message, well, he was full of stories about how you saved Jonquierre."

"I didn't really--"

"It was a great thing you did. More than most guides would do, certainly. You're a good man. The baron will be grateful, I can assure you of that."

Grantaire frowned. He hadn't risked his neck to earn some reward from the baron. But Iven didn't seem to mean any harm. He ushered Grantaire into the finest room he'd ever seen, with an enormous, four-poster bed and soft furs covering the floor. Above the crackling fireplace hung an intricate tapestry depicting six white-robed maidens dancing around a bubbling fountain. Near the fire, wisps of steam curled from a large, wooden tub. Grantaire thanked Iven for his kindness, firmly resisting when he offered to send a servant to assist with his bath. He might enjoy the unusual luxury of being waited upon, but there were some things he preferred to do for himself. Iven left, taking Felix to a similar room, and Grantaire was finally left alone.

Noticing the fresh clothes piled neatly on the bed, he stripped out of his own filthy garments and tossed them on the floor. They were out of place -- the only dirty thing in this immaculate room. But he didn't know where else to put them. Maybe that was why Iven had offered a servant -- so Grantaire wouldn't mess the place up.

With a shrug, he stepped over to the tub and slipped into the steaming water, wincing as the heat penetrated cuts and scrapes he hadn't known about until now. His aches soon disappeared. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. Heaven couldn't be much better than this.

Grantaire wondered what it would be like to live like this. To have servants to make you a bath. To stroll around the corridors of a lofty castle, barely glancing at the beautiful statues and carvings because you had seen them so many times before. Because they belonged to you.

His dream of owning Talley's Corner paled in comparison to this kind of magnificence. He could definitely get used to this. He couldn't help admiring Enjolras for leaving it behind. He wasn't the kind of man who sought the Crown out of a desire for power or wealth. Wise enough to see it for the burden that it was, he was willing to take it up because of duty; because Cambrai needed a good king. Grantaire wondered if Enjolras would get to see much of his family when he became king. He hadn't thought about that until now. What was going to happen after he got Enjolras safely to San Sebastien? He would be chosen -- how could he not be? He wouldn't need Grantaire any more, that much was certain. Grantaire, who'd never been lucky enough to have a family, would have to leave behind the only real friend he'd ever known and go back to Savin. Suddenly, Talley's Corner didn't seem like much of a reward.

He drifted asleep to these unpleasant thoughts, waking some time later to a knock at the door. He was still soaking in the now luke-warm water. Cursing, he draped a towel around himself and answered the door. It was Enjolras himself, come to call him to dinner.

"What do you want?" he snapped. Part of him realized he was angry with Enjolras for something that hadn't even happened yet. It wasn't rational. But he'd just awaken, and he wasn't in the mood to be rational.

Enjolras looked surprised at Grantaire's outburst, but he didn't remark on it. "Dinner is ready. I thought you'd feel more comfortable if I came to get you. I know you're not used to servants."

Grantaire frowned, embarrassed that he'd been so rude when Enjolras was going out of his way to be nice. "Sorry. Come in."

Enjolras waited while he quickly dressed in the velvet hose and doublet the baroness had provided. It was more finery than Grantaire was used to, and it made him feel awkward and uncomfortable. He did admire the color, the same rich green of healthy grass when the sun had just set, leaving just enough light to distinguish it from the black and starless sky.

While Grantaire readied himself, Enjolras paced back and forth before the fire, his expression distant. Somehow, Grantaire didn't think he was worried about being late for dinner.

"Enjolras, what's wrong?"

He stopped pacing and turned to Grantaire with a startled expression, as if he'd forgotten his presence. His blue eyes were troubled.

"It was good to see my mother and Vivien again. Mother cried. I've been away for too long."

"And you feel guilty."

He nodded. "Julien was right -- I made no attempt to keep in touch with them while I was at the monastery. I was afraid they wouldn't understand my reasons for being there. So I didn't tell them."

"Are they mad at you?"

"No." Enjolras seemed surprised at the question. "No, not at all. They were just glad to have me home. But they assumed that I plan to stay."

"Oh. What did they say when you told them..." Grantaire stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the guilty expression on Enjolras's face. "You didn't tell them, did you?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't. I don't know what to tell them, Grantaire. How can I disappoint them again?"

Grantaire couldn't believe it. Enjolras sounded so ashamed of himself. And he was asking for advice from Grantaire, someone who had never had a family to speak of. Maybe he was just being jealous, but it was hard for him to be sympathetic with Enjolras's problem.

"Enjolras, just tell them the truth. What else can you tell them?"

He shook his head. "I have no excuse for my actions, Grantaire. Julien was right to be angry. I should have confided in them from the beginning. Father will be the hardest to speak to. He and my brothers were just arriving when I came up here."

Grantaire sighed. It was so unlike Enjolras to question his own judgment. Why couldn't he doubt himself like this when he was about to commit them all to hunting down armed bandits?

"Well, it's time to confide in them now. You can't avoid them forever."

"Yes, of course. But how?"

Grantaire opened the door. "They're your family, Enjolras. You'll think of something."

He had plenty of time to admire the decor on their way down to the dining hall. Enjolras walked so slowly, Grantaire had to watch himself to keep from stepping on his heels. He tried to contain his patience by studying the portraits of family ancestors that lined the walls. But they weren't his ancestors, and he just wasn't interested. The perfectly preserved suits of empty armor that were propped like sentinels in the corner gave him the creeps; it was if Enjolras's home were being guarded by ghosts. The corridors were too narrow, and the cold, stone walls surrounding them reminded him of a cell. He didn't understand why anyone would build a castle with big, beautiful rooms, then force people to creep along gloomy hallways like rats in an alley.

When the friendly voices and the scent of roasting fowl reached them, Grantaire pushed his way past Enjolras to peer into the dining hall. It was cavernous, decked with tapestries the size of small inns and blazing with light from dozens of candles that sat proudly in the brass sconces that circled the room. More candles flickered from a crystal chandelier that hung above the long, wooden table. Servants scurried about, setting out plates and lighting candles. The smell of baked apples and cinnamon mingled with the fowl and at least a dozen spices Grantaire could never hope to name. His stomach growled in anticipation.

The cushioned, high-backed chairs lining the table were empty. Julien and Felix stood beside the hearth, talking to two women. Just as Enjolras and Grantaire stepped into the room, one of the women turned to face them. Waves of dark hair rippled as she cocked her head. Blue eyes studied them from a face so perfect it could have been sculpted in marble. She smiled and walked towards them, the train of her gown rustling behind her.

"Vivien," said Enjolras, "this is my friend, Grantaire. Grantaire, meet my sister, Vivien."

She held out a long-fingered hand, which he awkwardly raised in his own. Her skin was soft. She was smiling at him again, and Grantaire realized he was supposed to say something.

"Pleased to meet you." He let go of her hand, hoping he didn't offend by breaking the contact too soon. He wasn't sure how to act.

"The pleasure is mine. We've been hearing stories about you, Grantaire. And I believe every one of them. It takes a remarkable person to be a friend to my brother -- he can be very difficult."

"Well, that's true."

She grinned. Taking him and Enjolras both by the arm, she led them over to the hearth. "Mother," she said. "I'd like you to meet Grantaire."

Grantaire was at a loss. He wasn't sure how to greet a baroness. Before he could say a word, she embraced him and kissed him on the cheek. Grantaire stared at her, amazed. She was a handsome, dignified woman. She shouldn't be kissing someone like him.

"My family owes you a great debt, Grantaire. Welcome to our home."

"Thank you."

Julien handed him a glass of wine. "Father and the others will be here any minute. They needed time to clean up."

They both looked at Enjolras. He held a glass of wine he hadn't touched. He watched the doorway as if he expected his executioner to walk through it at any minute.

"Grantaire, Father Felix, I hope you'll both be comfortable here. Dinner for us is very informal when it's just family. And special guests like you."

"Thank you." Grantaire joined Felix in expressing his gratitude for her concern, but he hardly thought a dinner attended by so many servants could be considered informal. He wondered what their formal affairs were like.

Enjolras turned suddenly, spilling his wine. As Julien gently took the glass from him, Grantaire turned around to see what had startled his friend.

Three men had entered the room. Grantaire looked at the tall, distinguished-looking man who led them and knew he was looking at the man Enjolras would become in twenty years. Except for lines around his eyes and mouth and the faint dusting of gray in his dark hair, the man was a copy of Enjolras, right down to the amazing blue eyes.

The baron kept his gaze on Enjolras as he walked slowly towards them. His two companions -- they could only be Enjolras's brothers -- remained still, gaping in astonishment. Grantaire looked to Julien, but he was watching his father. He held his glass so tightly the veins in his hand stood out, and his eyes were wide with apprehension.

The baron stopped in front of Enjolras. They regarded each other in silence. Even Grantaire could read the apology in Enjolras's eyes, the sorrow for what had passed between them.

"Enjolras," the baron said softly. "You're really here. So many times I have dreamed that you came back to us. In my dreams, I sent you away again. I was so angry. You disobeyed me, son."

Enjolras lowered his gaze and took a step back. "I'm sorry, father. I'll leave if you wish."

"No." Vivien's protest was barely a whisper.

The baron didn't look at her. He reached out to Enjolras, closing the distance between them. Before Enjolras realized what was happening, his father had pulled him into his arms.

"Sending you away was a nightmare. Waking up to find you gone was worse. I prayed every day for your safe return. I would have given my life for it. Welcome home, son."

"Thank you, sir."

Grantaire could hear the relief in Enjolras's voice, muffled as it was by his father's wide shoulder. Vivien sighed happily. She grabbed the other two by the arms and turned them to face Grantaire. She introduced the bearded fellow as Andrei, and the young man as Raimi.

"Raimi just turned sixteen today," she explained. "So we have double cause to celebrate."

Andrei's sudden if well-meant pat on the shoulder nearly knocked Grantaire off his feet. Hiding his surprise, he looked up at the giant with a friendly smile.

"Welcome to Cheval, Grantaire."

"How did you meet Enjolras?" Raimi asked.

Startled by the sudden question, Grantaire struggled to answer it. Well, you see I was robbing the priest over there didn't seem like a good way to begin. He was saved when Iven called them all to the table, where a myriad of tempting dishes surrounded a roast piglet with glazed apples spilling from its open mouth.

Grantaire was relieved by the casual, friendly atmosphere at dinner. There were few servants attending them -- the baroness seemed to enjoy doing things for herself. He found himself sitting between Vivien and Raimi, and was surprised when each of them reached out to take his hand. Seeing that everyone was bowing their heads, Grantaire joined them.

"Thank you Lord," the baron prayed, "for your many blessings. We thank you for the company of new friends, and for the safe return of our son, Enjolras. Most of all, I extend my personal gratitude for your allowing my head-strong son Raimi to survive another year, for surely he could not have done so without Your help."

Grantaire heard the others chuckling. He looked up in amazement at the baron, who winked at him. Was Enjolras the only one in this family who didn't have a sense of humor? It certainly seemed that way.

The baroness filled her husband in on his children's recent adventure in Jonquierre. Her account of Grantaire's involvement was positively embarrassing.

"You are a brave man, Grantaire," said the baron. "We owe your our gratitude, and more than that. You will be knighted, of course. I'll see to it."

Knighted? Him? "Please, sir, don't do that." Grantaire couldn't believe this was happening. He was a peasant, and a thief. Surely the baron couldn't knight him. "I wouldn't make a very good knight."

"Father," said Enjolras, "Grantaire is too modest."

"I'd say so." He smiled at Grantaire. "I insist upon it, young man. We'll keep the ceremony simple, if you like."

Grantaire looked helplessly at Enjolras. How could he let this happen? He knew about his past.

"So, how did you meet Enjolras?" Raimi asked again. Oblivious to Grantaire's discomfort, he was determined to satisfy his curiosity.

"We met in Savin. He hired me as a guide."

"A guide? What for? He knows the way home."

"He needed my help to find someone."

Raimi frowned across the table at his brother, who was engaged in a deep discussion with Julien. Grantaire heard him mention Armand's name.

"Enjolras," Raimi bellowed. "What were you doing in Savin?"

The baroness scowled at her youngest child. "Raimi, mind your manners!"

"I just want some answers. Enjolras left us two years ago to become a priest. Now he's back, but he's not a priest. What's going on?"

The kid definitely had a point. Grantaire figured Enjolras's family had been amazingly patient to hold off their questions this long. Surely they were all dying to know why Enjolras had come home.

The baron flashed a look of disapproval at Raimi that had no discernible effect. Then he turned to Enjolras.

"Son, I think we would all like to know why you left the priest-hood. Have you come home for good? You must know we would welcome that news."

The others waited in tense silence, watching Enjolras. He was staring into his wine goblet with a forlorn expression, as if he had hoped to find the words he needed floating within. Grantaire felt sorry for him.

"I was not meant to become a priest," Enjolras said. He continued to stare into his goblet, not looking at anyone.

"I did tell you as much when you left," the baron said evenly. "No offense to Father Felix here, but the priesthood isn't for everyone. I suppose you needed to learn that for yourself. Your place is here, Enjolras."

Andrei nodded. "With all the bandits roaming around these days, we could certainly use your help."

Enjolras winced. He looked up at his father, his expression already pleading for forgiveness for what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry, but I can not stay. I plan to track down Armand before I go -- I owe you that much. But Grantaire, Felix and I must be in San Sebastien by year's end."

"What?" The baron's astonished bellow was echoed by the rest of his family, excepting only Julien. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, regarding Enjolras grimly.

"You have responsibilities here. To me, to your family, and to our people. I let you go once. Lord knows I wanted to find you and drag you back here. You know damn well I could have done it. But to what purpose? To keep you a prisoner here? I couldn't do that to you. Not to my own son."

"Father, I -- "

"Don't you dare interrupt me. I had hoped you would learn something at the monastery. Learn your place, if nothing else. How dare you march back to this house and tell me you're leaving again?"

"Father, I'm sorry. I have no choice."

"No choice? You're my son. Sir Enjolras D'Cheval. A knight, not a priest. What purpose could you possibly have in San Sebastien?"

"We must see the Archbishop."

For a moment, no one spoke. The baron's furious expression transformed to astonishment. "You mean to try for the throne. My own son. How could you? You had no right to do this without consulting me. I've already promised Baron Reule my support. Do you realize what kind of position this puts me in?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

Steadily, Enjolras looked his father in the eye. "Sir, I know you have difficulty believing in dreams and visions. But I have learned to trust mine. God spoke to me in the monastery. I know who the king of Cambrai must be."

"You know?" The baron pounded his fist on the table so hard his goblet tipped, spilling red wine down the length of the table. No one moved to clean it up.

"This is ridiculous! You have no concept of diplomacy -- you never did. Now you're using piety as an excuse to grab for the throne. Have you gone mad?"

"No sir, I have not."

Before the baron could answer, Julien stood up. "He's right father. I've seen Enjolras work miracles. He healed Grantaire."

Suddenly, Grantaire felt the eyes of the angry, red-faced baron staring intently at him.

"Is this true?"

He nodded. "Enjolras can heal, sir. He saved my life, and I watched him save others. So has Father Felix."

"Miracles are always difficult to believe, my lord," said Felix. "But I have seen Enjolras perform many. I believe that his visions are real."

"Visions. Miracles. What's happened to you? You're not the son I raised. I don't know what you are."

The baron turned and left the room. Weeping, his wife ran after him.

"Don't worry," said Julien. "He'll come around."

"Is it true?" Raimi asked. "Have you really healed people?"

Enjolras only nodded. He was obviously upset, and Grantaire couldn't blame him. His father had denied what his son had become as if miracles were something to be ashamed of. Grantaire thought of Armand, whose uncle probably praised him for being such a successful thief and murderer. It was a strange world.

"I'll go talk to him," Andrei said.

"No, please don't." Enjolras pushed his chair away from the table and stood. He wouldn't look at anyone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset everyone like this. Maybe I shouldn't have come here."

Vivien stepped up behind Enjolras and put her arms around him. "Don't say that. We love you, and we're glad to have you home. Father feels the same way, you'll see. Just give him time."

"I'm sorry, Vivien. That's the one thing I can't give him."

He turned in her embrace and kissed her on the cheek. Then he gently pushed her away. "I have to find Armand. Julien, may Grantaire and I look at your maps?"

Felix stepped between them before Julien could answer. "Enjolras, surely that can wait."

"No, Felix, it can't. You should get some rest. It's been a long day. Julien, I'll meet you and Grantaire in your study."

Enjolras walked out of the room, his steps slow and heavy. Grantaire had never seen him look so tired.

"This isn't right," said Raimi. "There has to be something we can do."

Vivien gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry, little brother. This wasn't the celebration we'd planned for your birthday."

Julien sighed. "Come on, Grantaire. Finding Armand is the one thing we can help him with." He patted Raimi's shoulder as they left the room.

By the time they reached the study, Enjolras had already pulled what they needed from Julien's map case and unrolled the parchments on the cedar table beside the hearth. Grantaire exchanged a concerned look with Julien, who shrugged and began to light a fire. His message was clear -- if Enjolras wanted to pretend the argument with his father hadn't happened, there was nothing they could do about it.

Julien's maps were impressive. Several different scrolls detailed the same area, variously giving information on landmarks, population, wildlife, water sources, even soil content. Enjolras pulled out one covered with names and dates in a handwriting almost as perfect as Grantaire's.

"Some of those dates are approximate," Julien explained, pointing to the map. "They didn't always leave witnesses."

"Have you noticed a pattern?"

"No. To be honest, I haven't had much time to look. As you can see, Jonquierre wasn't the only town in Cheval that's been hit. We've had our hands full just looking after the people."

Enjolras looked sadly at his brother. "I'm sorry. I should have been here to help."

"Enjolras, I didn't mean it like that. I'm not blaming you. Sure, things have been hard since you left. We've missed you. But you were only doing what you had to do." He smiled wryly. "Besides, if you hadn't found Grantaire here, we wouldn't have had any warning this last time."

"I think you've all thanked me quite enough for that."

"Don't be so sure," Julien grinned. "Father promised to make you a knight. He won't back down, no matter how angry he is."

Grantaire sighed. "That's just great."

"You should be honored," said Enjolras.

"I don't want to be honored. I want to go back to Savin and buy Talley's Corner. Nobody wants to bow and scrape to the barkeep."

"Perhaps you could change your plans."

"Oh no. You promised me that tavern, and I'm holding you to it. There's got to be some way I can get out of this."

Julien laughed. "Don't count on it. Our father is a very stubborn man."

"Yes. That is quite true," Enjolras said. He looked sad and weary, as if he had just lost a long and difficult battle.

"Enjolras, why don't you go talk to him? This can wait until tomorrow."

"No, I'm afraid it can't. Grantaire will be occupied preparing for the ceremony."

"I will?"

Julien looked at Grantaire and shook his head. "We can look at the maps after the ceremony. It won't take all day."

"Wait a minute. What do I have to do for this ceremony? Is it dangerous?"

"No," said Enjolras. Grantaire wasn't sure who he was talking to. "We must leave right after the celebration. It must be now, Julien. There's no time to spare."

Julien sighed. "There never is." He sat down at the table and stared at the maps.

"I still don't understand why you're so committed to finding Armand," Grantaire complained. "Can't you just send someone for him after you've become king?"

"No, Grantaire. I am not sure of the reason yet, but I know we must do this."

Grantaire scowled. "Let me guess. You had another vision?"

"Of sorts, yes."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

Enjolras looked away. He seemed troubled -- by guilt perhaps? Grantaire had the sudden feeling his friend knew all sorts of things he wasn't telling anyone. He didn't like it.

"My knowledge seems to disturb you, Grantaire. And it is difficult for me to express. I do not always receive visions, not the way you mean. I simply leave myself open to God, and somehow he tells me what I must do. For some reason, it is very important that we hunt down Armand."

"Why you?" Julien snapped. He sounded irritated, and Grantaire couldn't blame him. He felt the same way.

Enjolras shrugged. "I am not certain."

"You know, it would be nice if you'd demand a little more information from God next time he decides to chat with you. I mean, one minute He tells you to head for San Sebastien, and the next you're supposed to ride off in the opposite direction. If He expects us to ride around the country like a couple of fools who don't know which way the sun sets, the least He could do is give us an explanation."

He caught Julien hiding a smile. Enjolras, however, did not seem amused. The frown he gave Grantaire was not just irritation -- he was angry.

"It is not our place to demand explanations from God. As Saint Sebastien has written, we are all but instruments of His plan. To struggle against our destiny is to betray our faith."

Grantaire sighed. "That's real nice, Enjolras. We'll have it carved on your tombstone."

The silence that followed his remark was awkward, and Grantaire wished he could take it back. They could get killed doing this, couldn't they? He didn't remember Enjolras saying that God had promised their safety. He thought about apologizing, but what was he supposed to say? Instead, he decided to make amends by giving in and trying to help. He picked up the heavy scroll and studied the pattern of marks. They spanned a lot of territory between Lierre and Tarascon, including smaller baronies like Cheval and Marin. The three largest baronies, Essai, Brucie and Guerin, had been spared completely.

"Well, it's pretty clear who Armand's allies are. Julien, why are the towns marked differently?" Julien had written each of the town's names in his careful handwriting, placing an open circle next to some and closed circles by others.

"I marked the size of the towns. The open circles are small, not more than villages for the most part. That's what the bandits concentrated on almost entirely. It doesn't make any sense."

"It does if you realize they weren't after money." Grantaire explained. "Oh, they thought they were. But most of the money they had came directly from Armand. He wasn't in this to make a profit."

"Then why?" asked Julien.

"When they hit Jonquierre, Armand said something about teaching a lesson. I think Cheval's been a big target because your father supports the wrong man for the throne. He got some personal satisfaction from that, too. Armand really hates you, Enjolras."

Enjolras looked at him with wide eyes. "He does? After all this time?"

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing he didn't deserve," said Julien. "Armand was never well liked, but he was tolerated for his uncle's sake. Then one day Enjolras discovered him making some improper advances to a young lady. He seemed to feel that any woman of lower rank was his for the taking. Enjolras disagreed. He challenged Armand to a duel. A very public duel."

"Really?" Grantaire had seen nobles fight duels before. Usually, their reasons were stupid and petty. "Did you fight a lot of duels, Enjolras?"

"Of course not. Our father didn't approve of them. I'm afraid Armand provoked me. I really shouldn't have lost my temper."

"Everyone was glad you did. Even father, though he never admitted it. Armand needed to be taught a lesson." He grinned at Grantaire. "Enjolras completely humiliated him. He only use the flat of his blade, and still he beat Armand into the ground. He never was much of a fighter."

"Really, Julien. I didn't want to kill him."

"Sounds like you should have," Grantaire said. "He's a lot more dangerous now. He doesn't need to be a good fighter when he has an army of cut-throats at his beck and call."

"All the more reason to bring him to justice," said Enjolras. "I won't have any more innocents hurt because of a grudge Armand bears against me. We must find him."

For once, Grantaire understood how Enjolras felt. He'd decided a long time ago that he would never have another death on his conscience. He studied the map, this time with more vigilance.

"Armand wouldn't leave an obvious trail. He's too smart for that. But he has to have a base somewhere. Every town they hit wasn't poor. Those bandits were taking in a lot of loot, and they certainly didn't carry it with them. They were pretty well trained; I've never have expected a bunch of bandits to be so good at taking orders."

"He wouldn't train them in Essai," said Julien. "Not openly, anyway. His uncle might support him in this, but I don't think he'd risk a war. Not without a good reason."

"What about his allies? You said his uncle supports D'Brucie."

Julien nodded. "Baron Nigel D'Brucie has a lot of support, including Guerin and Essai. It would be like him to use bandits to strong-arm people like this."

"Why does he wait?" asked Grantaire. "If he wants the throne that badly, why not start a war now?"

"He might not have to," said Julien. "The way he sees it, there's always the chance D'Rabican would choose him. He's arrogant, and blind to his own faults, so he won't consider how unlikely it is that he would be Cambrai's God-given king. Fortunately, the Archbishop is an honorable man. If he tells us that God revealed the true king in a vision, than that is nothing less than the truth. He won't waver from that, no matter what D'Brucie does."

"So he doesn't want to go to all the trouble unless he has to. Well, that makes sense. Won't the other barons support the rightful king?"

"I believe most of them will. But Brucie and Essai have the largest armies. The two of them alone would give the rest of us quite a battle."

"We're straying from the matter at hand," said Enjolras. "These maps must give us some clue that will help us to locate Armand."

"What if they don't?" Grantaire asked. "Can you admit that tracking him down just might be impossible? We don't have much time left."

"We have thirty-one days, Grantaire. It's not impossible."

He sighed. He should have known better than to expect Enjolras to give up on anything. From the smirk on Julien's face, he had already reached that conclusion. Grantaire had to wonder how Enjolras's family had put up with him all these years. He must have been pig-headed long before he became a miracle worker. Well, if there was a pattern in this damned map, Grantaire was determined to find it quickly so they could all get some sleep.

"Julien, do you mind if I draw on this?"

"No, not at all." He fetched a quill and ink and handed them to Grantaire.

Briefly explaining himself, Grantaire began to draw lines connecting the attacks in the order that they had occurred. They all studied the results. At first it seemed as if he'd done nothing more than create a bizarre tangle of shapes on top of Julien's pain-staking work. But there was a pattern. He gradually realized that every fourth or fifth attack took place in the same general area.

"Those foothills between Essai and Lierre," he said, pointing to the map.

Julien was quick to agree. "You're right. The lines keep returning there. That would make an excellent hiding place. Enjolras, do you remember Baron Henri telling us that some of those caves go on forever? Armand could easily hide hundreds of men, and no one would ever know they were there."

Enjolras nodded. "You're right. Good thinking, Grantaire. As soon as the ceremony is over, we will search for Armand there."

Grantaire started to protest, but Julien beat him to it. He quickly snatched the map away, as if he could stop Enjolras by preventing him from looking at it.

"Have you lost your mind? You can't just take armed men across Essai without permission."

"I have no intention of taking any of father's men with me, Julien. Only Grantaire and Felix. We can easily ride through Essai without attracting attention. When we find Armand, we can take him across the border to Lierre. Baron Henri would be pleased to take him into custody."

Julien looked to Grantaire for support, but he only shrugged. Enjolras was stubborn enough to insist on this insane plan, and he wasn't going to waste his breath trying to talk him out of it.

"I should have never let you see this map. You're going to run off and get yourself killed, and it's going to be my fault. At least let me come with, you. That way I won't have to explain anything to mother."

Grantaire choked down a laugh. It was nice to see Enjolras had the same infuriating effect on other people. He stubbornly clung to these ridiculous plans that no rational person would ever agree to, yet he made you care too damn much to walk away from him. Grantaire was beginning to feel he would never have any real choices again; stealing that purse from Felix had irrevocably committed him to everything that would ever happen for the rest of his life. It was like some sort of divine punishment. God, he decided, had a warped sense of humor.

"No, Julien," Enjolras was saying. "You're needed here. There may be more attacks, and Cheval must be defended."

"What about you, Enjolras? Doesn't the future king of Cambrai need to be defended too? You need someone you to look out for you."

"I have Grantaire for that, Julien. He is as good a companion as I could hope for. And we have Felix's wisdom to guide us."

"What wisdom?" Grantaire muttered. He looked up at Enjolras, suddenly doubtful. "Are you saying I'm the best companion possible, or the best you could get? There's a difference, you know."

"Grantaire, you shouldn't doubt yourself."

"I didn't think I was."

"I have said I value your friendship, Grantaire. I meant that."

Julien shook his head. "This is nice. While you two off are celebrating your friendship, I'm left behind to explain to Father you've gone off and left again. What am I supposed to tell him?"

Enjolras looked grim. "I will speak to father tomorrow."

Grantaire yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Damn, I'm tired."

"You should get some rest, Grantaire. You have to be up early tomorrow."

Grantaire groaned. "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. Enjolras, can't you just explain to your father that we don't have time for this right now? After we've rounded up Armand and the bandits, made you a king, and committed any other acts of heroism you can think of along the way, we'll come back here and do this knight thing. I promise."

"Grantaire, I sense your promise isn't entirely sincere."

"Sure it is."

Julien chuckled. "Give up, Grantaire. No one ever wins an argument with our father. If he's determined to knight you, well, I'm afraid there's nothing any of us can do."

"Great. I suppose I have to be up at the crack of dawn?"

"Don't worry, Grantaire. Father will send someone to wake you."

"That isn't what worries me. I don't suppose you two will tell me what this ceremony is like?"

Enjolras shook his head. "In due time, Grantaire. There are formalities that must be observed. You should get some rest now."

There was no use in arguing. They weren't going to tell him anything. Grantaire struggled to his feet and grabbed a candle from the table. Damn, he was tired. "Good night," he said, and staggered out the door, glad he had memorized the way back to his room. He'd hate to be found sleeping in the hallway.

It was late, and most of the castle was abed. He heard no sound beyond his own shuffling footsteps as he made his way through the dark hallways. The only light came from the flickering candle he held before him. The candles in the wall sconces had been snuffed recently -- their smoky scent still hung in the air.

Grantaire wasn't blind to the irony that he, a thief, would be prowling around a baronial castle at night with no intention of stealing anything. His former comrades from Savin would say he was missing his chance, but he could never steal from Enjolras's family. They deserved much better than that. Grantaire smiled to himself. His mother would have loved these people.

And they were going to make him a knight. He still couldn't believe it. He certainly didn't feel like a knight, and he knew he could never act like one. Weren't they supposed to spend years learning how be foolish and honorable? He hadn't done that. No matter what anybody said, he wasn't going to. The whole situation was absurd. He had to wonder if his mother, watching from above, was proud or confused.

He'd finally reached the door to his chamber. (He couldn't quite think of it as a room -- it was far too grand for that.) But he didn't open it. He realized sadly that he had far too much to think about -- he could never sleep now. He decided to take a walk on the battlements. Looking at the stars had always helped him to relax.

Though he'd yet to take the tour Enjolras had promised him, it didn't take Grantaire long to find a door that led outside. The castle was simply laid out, now that he'd gotten used to it. He pushed open the heavy oak door, wincing as a chill wind blasted him, putting out the candle. He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, and stepped out. Two guards stood nearby, warming their hands over a glowing brazier. They nodded politely as he walked by. Apparently, it was not unusual to see guests of the baron strolling around on the ramparts after midnight.

He hadn't gone far before he realized why. He was not alone out here. A woman stood near the watch tower. Her face was turned away from him as she looked up at the night sky. Grantaire hesitated. He didn't know who the woman was, and he didn't want to disturb her. She turned around suddenly, perhaps in response to some small noise he had made. Her face was bathed in moonlight like an angel in a painting. It was Enjolras's sister, Vivien.

Recognizing him, she smiled. "Grantaire, good evening. I see I am not the only one who likes the stars." She hugged her furred cloak tighter about her. "They are always brightest on the cold nights."

Grantaire looked up. She was right -- they were brilliant tonight, giving them more than light than his now extinct candle had. He set it down on the stone wall and walked over to where Vivien stood. Though he felt awkward, standing here with a baron's daughter, he couldn't very well turn around and leave. It would be rude -- even he knew enough of manners to realize that much.

"Do you watch the stars often?"

She nodded. "It's very peaceful. I come here whenever I have trouble sleeping. Not very lady-like, I know."

Grantaire didn't know. He didn't know how ladies were supposed to behave, but he couldn't imagine anyone objecting to Vivien's stargazing.

"What brings you here?" she asked. "Is your sleep troubled?"

Grantaire knew he shouldn't tell her. He should just make a few polite comments and go back to his room. He had no business out here talking to this woman.

But something about Vivien made him want to confide in her. It was the way she looked at him, so honestly concerned for his welfare, with those blue eyes just like Enjolras's. He felt like he knew her already.

"It's this knight business," he blurted. "I don't know what to do about it."

She smiled. "It's a simple ceremony, Grantaire. There's not much for you to do. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"That's not what I meant. I don't want to be a knight." He winced. He sounded petty and ungrateful. "I mean, I don't think I'll be any good at it."

She laughed. It astonished him. "I'm sorry," she said. She was still chuckling. "But my father meant to honor you by this. If he knew how terrified you are..."

"You won't tell him?"

"Of course not."

Grantaire wasn't sure he liked her attitude. She was still laughing at him. "I'm not terrified. It's just, well, couldn't he have found some other way to thank me?"

"I'm afraid it's the only appropriate way he could reward you for your bravery. Don't worry so much. It's really just a formality."

"It is?"

She cocked her head to the side, studying his expression to see if he was serious. "Yes, it is," she said. "What have my brothers been telling you?"

"They won't tell me anything. Not even Enjolras." Grantaire frowned. If it really wasn't a big deal, Enjolras could have just said so. Then he wouldn't be out here right now, making a fool out of himself.

"Enjolras takes these things far too seriously." She put a hand on his arm. Grantaire stared down at it -- her fingers were small and delicate. "I'm glad he has a friend like you, Grantaire."

He wasn't sure what she meant by that. He started to ask her, but the look on her face stopped him. She was biting her lip, as if to keep from crying. The hand on his arm shook a little.

"What's wrong?" He took her hand in his. Her fingers were icy. "Are you cold? We should go inside."

"No, I'm not cold." A tear spilled from her eyes and ran down her cheek, glistening in the moonlight. "I'm afraid, Grantaire. I'm afraid something terrible is going to happen to Enjolras. Please, don't deny it."

Grantaire shut his mouth. He'd been about to do just that.

Vivien pulled away from him. She stepped to the edge of the ramparts and leaned against the wall, looking out into the night.

"Don't tell me everything will be all right. It's what you're taught to tell us women, I know. We're fragile. We're not supposed to worry. Well, I'm not fragile, and I'm not a fool. I worry about my brother because I know him. He takes risks, Grantaire -- he always has. The better the reason, the bigger the risks. If he believes God wants him to take the throne, he'll risk everything for it. Even his life."

She turned back to face him. The single tear had turned into a steady torrent. She cried silently, too proud to sob.

"I don't care what God wants, Grantaire. I don't want my brother to die."

Grantaire was stunned. Enjolras can't die, he wanted to tell her. But it wasn't the truth. Maybe Enjolras believed it, that he was blessed and God would look after him. Grantaire had seen him brought to his knees by the effort of working God's own miracles. How could he count on God to protect him?

Vivien was watching him, waiting for an answer. She deserved something. She deserved the truth. He stepped closer to her.

"I'll look out for him," he promised. He meant it. It was such an astonishing realization, he started shaking. He would give anything to keep Enjolras safe. For the first time since he'd lost his mother, he'd found someone whose life meant more to him than his own.

Vivien was still watching him. "Yes," she said, "I believe you will." She pressed soft lips to his cheek. "Thank you, Grantaire." Pulling away, she turned and ran for the door. Grantaire watched it shut behind her. With a heavy sigh, he sat on the edge of the ramparts and looked up at the stars. He knew he would get no sleep tonight.

***

The sun was starting to rise when Grantaire went back to his room. He surprised Iven, who was getting ready to knock.

"Oh, there you are. My, you must have been up early."

"I guess you could say that."

"Well, that's good. It shows initiative." He smiled. "The baron would like to see you now."

"Now?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

Grantaire looked down at the rumpled clothing he'd been wearing since they arrived yesterday. "Well, I'd like to change first." He'd like to sleep for about twelve hours, too. But he supposed that was too much to ask.

"Certainly. I've had fresh garments laid out for you. Do you require assistance?"

Realizing it must be part of Iven's job to keep asking that question, Grantaire hid his annoyance. "No, thank you."

"I'll wait for you here, then."

"I won't be long." Grantaire went into the room and shut the door. The promised garments lay on top of the bed, a neatly folded pile of deep blue satin. He walked over and picked up the tunic. It was trimmed in silver and looked as if it would fit him perfectly. He might never act like a knight, or feel like one, but Iven seemed determined to make him look like one.

There was no use protesting. He sat on the bed and began unlacing his shirt. The mattress was dangerously soft. If only he could lie down and close his eyes, just for a little while. He knew better than to give in to such a temptation. He didn't want to be carried to his meeting with the baron. He stood and quickly dressed himself, then surveyed the results in the standing mirror. The blue and silver suited him, and the clothes did fit perfectly. But his unruly hair hung in his eyes, and stubble bristled from his chin. He looked like a lowly serf who had stolen his master's clothes.

Fortunately, the ever-thoughtful Iven had left a comb, a razor and a bowl of water on the bed-side table. Grantaire shaved and combed his hair. He thought about cutting it, but he'd kept the baron waiting long enough.

If Iven was annoyed by the delay, he didn't show it. Without another word, he led Grantaire to the baron's study and ushered him inside. Grantaire was surprised when he shut the door behind him and left them alone. He hadn't realized this was going to be a private meeting.

The baron sat in a red-cushioned chair beside the room's only window. It was a tiny room, filled by three comfortable chairs and a small fireplace. The fire had burned to little more than embers. Grantaire wondered how long the baron had been awake, and for what purpose? There were dark circles under his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Good morning," he said. "I trust you slept well."

"Yes," Grantaire lied. The truth would have seemed ungrateful.

He gestured to the empty chair. "Please, sit down."

Grantaire slid into the chair, resisting the urge to pull it farther away from the baron. It was intimidating to sit this close to the man, no matter how tired he seemed. Once, Grantaire would have blamed his uneasiness on the knowledge that the baron had the power to take his life. But he hadn't come here to answer for his crimes. He was safe.

So why did he want to run?

"I told you before I would make you a knight, and I meant it. It's an honor you have earned by your service to my family and the people of this barony. I called you here this morning so that I could answer your questions. I assume you have many."

The man certainly didn't waste any time. Grantaire forced himself to look him in the eye. His were the same blue as Enjolras's. He realized now where Enjolras had learned to keep his expression so bland. The baron was just as unreadable as his son had once been. Maybe that's why Grantaire was so nervous. He was used to being able to guess what people were thinking, predict their reactions. Without that advantage he could trip up and say the wrong thing. It was like running blind.

The baron was waiting for an answer. Grantaire wondered if his patience was as limitless as his son's. Now was not the time to find that out, not if he wanted to get out of being knighted.

"Sir, I'm honored, really. But I don't see how I can be a knight. I'm just a peasant. I don't even know who my father is."

"Your birth is of no importance, Grantaire. I have the power to knight any man whose deeds have proven him worthy."

Grantaire hesitated. He'd hoped to persuade the baron not to knight him without completely losing the man's respect. But that didn't seem possible.

"Sir, you don't understand. Before I met Enjolras, I lived on the streets. I moved from town to town, making my living as a thief. I've robbed people in every barony in Cambrai, including yours. The only reason I'm not rotting in a dungeon, or worse, is because I didn't get caught."

"Grantaire, it doesn't matter what you used to be. Do you think many men would risk their lives to save a town full of complete strangers? Believe me, the people of Jonquierre don't care that you used to be a thief. And neither do I."

"But..."

"I'll hear no more arguments, son. I don't want you to worry yourself about this. I won't be sending you off to war, I can promise you that. I won't even insist that you stay in Cheval. You'd be welcome, of course. But I know you have other plans. In your absence, I'll look after the land in your name. It's customary -- I trust you don't object?"

"Land?"

"Yes. There's more than just a title involved here. I've chosen a good piece of land for you, in case you do decide to settle down. A percentage of the rents remains yours even if you don't live in Cheval."

This was all too much. All he'd wanted was money to buy a tavern. "Please, sir. I don't know how to manage tenants."

"You don't have to, son. I'll take care of that for you. Now, let me tell you about the ceremony."

Dazed, Grantaire could only sit and listen as the baron explained. He would be required to fast today, to purify himself apparently. At sunset he would be blessed by a priest, a duty for which Felix had surprisingly volunteered. Then he was supposed to spent the night in some sort of prayer vigil. Grantaire didn't quite understand the details of this, but it didn't seem to involve sleep. At dawn he would be knighted in a supposedly brief ceremony, during which he would pledge his loyalty to the baron and would be granted a boon of his asking. Afterwards, there would be a great feast.

Grantaire wanted to weep. His first time as the guest of noblemen, and they planned to starve him and deprive him of sleep. All in his honor, of course. It didn't seem fair.

The baron stood and shook his hand. "You're a good man, Grantaire. I'm sure you'll make a fine knight. Now, my sons are waiting for you. Iven will take you to them."

Grantaire stood. He was even more confused than he'd been before, and the baron had answered none of his questions. But he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He thanked the baron and started to leave. Just as he was about to open the door, he realized there was one question he simply had to ask.

"Sir, there's one more thing I'd like to ask you."

"Yes?"

"It's about Enjolras." The baron's expression turned instantly hard and unyielding. Grantaire swallowed nervously. Encouraging himself by the thought that making the baron angry might lose him his knighthood, if nothing else, he went on.

"I know this is none of my business. But Enjolras is my friend, and I want to help him if I can. I know you're angry with him, and maybe you have a right to be. But you don't know what he's become. To you, he's just your son. He's more than that now, much more."

As well as he could, Grantaire described the miracles he's seen his friend perform. "I've never really believed in much of anything. But I believe in Enjolras. I believe in his visions. Enjolras has the power to really make things better for Cambrai. He can't turn his back on that. Don't you see? Enjolras didn't leave because he wanted to. He didn't have any choice."

The baron continued to watch Grantaire with his arms folded before him, his expression unreadable. The silence between them was awkward.

"I appreciate your loyalty to my son," the baron said at last. "Even if it's misguided. I only wish Enjolras had shown the same loyalty to his family."

"But..."

"You may go now." The baron stared at him, his eyes cold. There was no reasoning with him. Grantaire left, slamming the door behind him. Iven was waiting for him outside. He glanced from the door to Grantaire, his eyes questioning.

"I'm supposed to meet Enjolras and the others."

"Yes, of course." Iven seemed a little disappointed that more information was not forthcoming. With a sigh, he turned and led Grantaire down the hallway. Apparently, he had expected to lead the new guest to the baron's sons. It irritated Grantaire that the servant seemed to know more about what was going on than he did. Maybe he should be asking Iven his questions.

Grantaire was led to yet another parlor; he wondered just how many the castle had. This one was larger and warmed by a blazing fire. Enjolras and Julien stood beside the fireplace, talking. They stopped when Grantaire came in.

"Good morning," said Enjolras.

Grantaire glanced behind him to make sure Iven had gone. "Your father is a very stubborn man."

Enjolras looked astonished. Julien, who was pouring a glass of water from a silver pitcher on the mantel, chuckled. He handed the glass to Grantaire, who drank gratefully, knowing he would get nothing else today.

"I take it you couldn't talk him out of knighting you."

"No." Grantaire looked at Enjolras, wondering if he should mention the rest of it. Enjolras might not appreciate his interference. On the other hand, keeping things from him seemed underhanded.

"Enjolras, I know I had no right to do this. But I had a talk with your father about everything that's happened since we met. I tried to explain about your visions. I mean, you've finally convinced me they're real. But he wouldn't listen."

"Thank you, Grantaire. I know you meant well. But there are very few people who can convince my father of anything." He looked sadly into the fire. "I used to be one of them."

Julien put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't take it so hard. You know how he is. He still hasn't forgiven you for leaving."

"I don't know what else I can do."

Grantaire rolled his eyes. Maybe it was only because he was an outsider, but the whole argument seemed stupid to him. The solution was obvious. "Enjolras, I know it's kind of unusual for me to be lecturing you. And I don't know any saintly quotes to go along with this. But if your father's angry at you, the only thing you can do is ask him to forgive you."

"I've tried, Grantaire."

"No you haven't. You tried to explain that you were right to leave. Well, maybe you were. But your father doesn't see it that way, and he's not going to. Enjolras, just this once, you're going to have to give in."

"Give in?"

"Yes. It's very simple -- tell him what he wants to hear."

"Are you suggesting that I should lie to my father?"

"No." Grantaire was so frustrated, he could have pulled his hair out. Well, maybe Enjolras's hair. "You don't have to lie. Tell him you're sorry that you hurt his feelings. Try to look at things from his point of view, Enjolras. You've made things hard on him. Don't you think you owe him an apology for that?"

"You're right, Grantaire." Enjolras looked at him thoughtfully. "You're very perceptive. I believe you're going to make a very good knight."

"Well, don't get any ideas. Your father promised this knighthood thing was just honorary."

"He did?"

"Yes." Grantaire didn't like the surprised look on Enjolras's face. "He meant it, didn't he? I'm not going to have vassals or anything like that?"

Julien laughed. "Enjolras, why don't you go talk to father? I can explain things to Grantaire."

Enjolras was reluctant to leave, but Julien insisted. Grantaire shook his head in disbelief as his friend trudged out the door. "You know, I didn't think he was afraid of anything. Until now."

Julien nodded. "Our father can be very intimidating."

"I've noticed. I hope you really can explain this knight stuff to me. He didn't tell me anything."

"It's very simple, really. When you become a knight, you're honor-bound to serve your liege lord -- in this case, my father. Normally, this would involve staying here in Cheval, looking after your tenants, and protecting the barony. But father will relieve you of these duties."

"Is that normal?"

"Yes. Knights are often rewarded in this manner for exceptional service, and your saving Jonquierre certainly qualifies."

"So, I don't really have to do anything?"

"You're expected to represent the baron with honor and dignity at all times. Beyond that, no, not really."

"So, going back to thievery is pretty much out of the question."

Julien grinned. "Pretty much. But owning a tavern is permissible. Not that you'll need it any more. Father will send you the yearly rents from your land, minus the usual percentage for the overseer, which should be quite enough to live on."

This was overwhelming. Grantaire had always lived in a world where people never gave anything away for free. "So, as far as I can tell, the baron is giving me a title and a yearly income for nothing. It makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense to my father, Grantaire. He feels he owes you a debt, and this is his way of repaying it."

Grantaire sighed. There was no use trying to fight it. "Well, unless there's some reason why I shouldn't, I'm going to get some sleep."

"Good idea. Father Felix will come get you when it's time."

"Tell him to knock loud."

***

Grantaire jerked awake when a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him. He opened his eyes and focused them on Felix.

"What do you want?"

"It's time for you to get up. We have to perform the ritual blessing so you can begin your vigil."

Grantaire groaned. It was the knighthood thing again -- it wouldn't go away. He rolled over onto his back. It wasn't much, but he hoped this small progress would satisfy Felix for a moment. The mattress had shaped his feather softness to hold him like a mother with a sleeping child. He didn't want to leave it.

Felix wasn't fooled. He tugged at Grantaire's arm. "Get up, you sluggard. We don't have all night."

"All right, all right." Grantaire sat up. He wasn't looking forward to this, but now that he'd resigned himself to being knighted he supposed he'd best get it over with. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and glared at Felix.

"What do I have to do?"

Felix gave him a disapproving frown. "First of all, you have to get out of bed."

"I'm not moving until you tell me where we're going."

"We're going to the chapel. Now get up."

Felix waited impatiently while Grantaire changed his clothes. This time, instead of the rich garments Iven had been providing, he was given a plain, white robe. Part of the ritual, no doubt. Grantaire hoped he wouldn't have to wear it for the whole ceremony -- it made him look like an acolyte.

Considering the rest of the castle, the chapel was smaller and much more simply adorned than Grantaire had expected. Wooden pews encircled an altar draped in the traditional white satin. A silver chalice filled with water had been placed on top of it. Beside it stood a brass candelabrum boasting seven white candles -- one for each of the saints. The smoke that curled up from them had an odd, spicy scent.

Dram-playing sessions with Father Bayard aside, Grantaire had avoided churches since his mother's death. She had taken him to worship every week, until she'd grown too ill. He still felt out of place standing in a sanctuary without her.

"Well, Felix. We're in the chapel. What do we do now?"

The priest frowned at him. "Grantaire, this is a very solemn occasion. You could treat it with a little more reverence."

"I'll leave the reverent stuff to you." He laughed when Felix rolled his eyes at him. "You know, I still don't understand why you volunteered for this. I'm sure the baron could have gotten another priest. I mean, we're not exactly the best of friends."

"No, we're not." Turning around, Felix brushed a finger along the top of the altar, as if seeking comfort from its touch. "I feel I'm to blame for that. It was easier to condemn you for your sins than to face up to my own."

Grantaire couldn't have been more surprised if Felix had jumped onto the altar and started dancing. He'd assumed Enjolras had forced Felix into this gesture. He'd never suspected anything like this. Curious, he stepped around the priest so he could look him in the eye.

"Felix, what are you talking about? What could you possibly have done that was so terrible?"

Felix shook his head. "It's not important. But you should know I'm doing this because I want to. I don't think you can blame me for not trusting you at first. I thought you were just after Enjolras's money. I was wrong. You deserve to be knighted, Grantaire. If you'll let me, I'd like to be part of it."

Grantaire was amazed. Though he'd been insulted by the priest's behavior, he had to admit he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to earn Felix's friendship. Maybe it was time to start.

"All right, Felix. I've got to admit, it's nice to have someone on my side. This ceremonial stuff makes me nervous. I'm not used to a lot of attention." He grinned. "It's always been hazardous to my profession."

"Hmm. We'd better get started. The first step of your vigil will be to ask forgiveness for your sins. It may take you longer than most."

"I expect it will." Grantaire was relieved that their new attempt at friendship didn't exclude a bit of banter. He'd have missed teasing Felix.

"So, where do we start?"

"First of all, I need to know if you've been baptized."

"Yes. My mother made sure of it." Felix looked tempted to ask him a question, so Grantaire turned and walked over to the altar. He didn't want to talk about his mother right now. It was too hard, knowing how much she would have loved to be here.

Felix had him kneel in front of the altar. Grantaire felt the strangely comforting weight of the priest's hand on his head as he began to speak.

"Holy Father, your servant Grantaire Matrice has been called upon to take up the mantle of knighthood. Tomorrow he will vow to uphold the honor of this illustrious order. This night he comes before you, dear Lord, to purify his soul by the confession of his sins, to contemplate the wonder of your glory, and to offer you his eternal devotion. We ask for your blessing, dear Lord. Help this, your servant, to live a blameless life, in keeping with the traditions of knighthood and according with Thy will."

The weight left Grantaire's head. He looked up to see Felix regarding him with a solemn expression. "Grantaire, if you would be a true knight, you must serve God before all others. I leave you now, to be alone with His holy presence. I charge you to confess your sins, openly and honestly, for no man may keep secrets from God. When the burden of your sins has been lifted from you, let your heart be at peace. Empty your mind of worldly concerns so that God may impart His blessings upon you. May the saints guide your journey."

Felix bowed to the altar, turned and left. Sensing he was supposed to focus on the candles that burned before him, Grantaire resisted the temptation to turn around as the priest's footsteps receded. He heard the chapel door close. He was alone.

Alone with God. What a strange thought. Expecting the ceremony to be more elaborate, Grantaire realized he was unprepared for Felix's departure. He'd barely listened to the blessing. He'd assumed it was just the formal prayer, and Felix would follow it with instructions a simple thief could understand. Well, it looked like he'd just have to muddle along on his own. At least he was all alone here, so he didn't have to worry about anyone watching him make a fool of himself.

"Okay, God. You know I didn't want this knight stuff anyway. But I'll do the best I can. Felix said I was supposed to confess my sins. I haven't done that since I was ten. It was a lot easier then -- there weren't so many of them. I'm not the same person I was then. There have been so many sins, I don't even remember them all. So I'll confess that right away -- I might be leaving out a few things here.

"I've taken a lot of things that didn't belong to me. I won't list them all, because I have to finish this by morning. I've been a thief all my life. That's what thieves do, you know. They take things. Maybe I should feel sorry for it, but I don't. The way I see it, you stole from me first. You took her away, when you knew how much I needed her. You have to remember -- I was the little kid praying his heart out because he didn't want his mother to die.

"I suppose you hear a lot of that. What did you expect? I was ten years old, and she was all I had. I became a thief to keep myself alive. It's not what she would have wanted, and I'm sure you're not too thrilled either. Things might have been different if you hadn't taken her away from me. I would have been a better person. So just remember, while I'm here confessing all these sins -- I am what you've made me."

Grantaire paused. His legs were starting to go numb from all this sitting. He shifted into a more comfortable position by the candles. Felix didn't say he had to kneel the whole time.

"So I stole some things. How important is that anyway? They were just things. Maybe I needed them more. If that was the worst I'd done, you'd have to admit helping Enjolras has made up for it. I know he's pretty special to you, and I like him too. But he can be hard for a mere mortal to put up with. I think I deserve some credit for listening to all those lectures.

"But stealing wasn't the worst of it. You see, I was young when I started stealing, and I wasn't very good at it. I got caught a couple of times. I was just a kid, and the constables let me go. Then I started running into people who were willing to teach me. Men like Jarle taught me everything I know. For a price, of course. They always took a percentage of what I brought in. Most of it, actually. Even then, I knew they were just using me. But I didn't care. I didn't like being alone, and it was nice to have some company. Someone I could trust.

"They never lasted long, these tutors of mine. Sooner or later they'd get bored and leave me behind. Or they'd get chased out of town. I was pretty lucky. None of them ever hurt me. You know, I think I would have been better off if one of them had. Maybe then I wouldn't have been so trusting when I met Lucien.

"I was seventeen when I wandered into this little town in Brucie. My father was from that barony, so my mother had always avoided it. She was terrified to be anywhere near him. But she was gone, and I was just another orphan. No one was going to know me. I thought it would be exciting to see someplace new. I can't remember now if I got chased out of the last town, or if I'd left because I was bored. I did that a lot. Whenever things got too tough, I'd head for new territory, hoping things would be better. I was always wrong.

"At first, it seemed like this time might be different. Because this time, I didn't just find a teacher. I found a friend. Or at least, I thought I had. I met Lucien the first night I was in town. He and his friends were hanging out at the tavern, laughing and joking like they didn't have a thing to worry about. And there I was, alone and starving. As usual.

"I had just enough money for one drink. But I decided to skip it. I didn't really want to be around these guys. Lucien stopped me on my way out the door. At first, I was scared. I was pretty scrawny back then, not much of a fighter. Lucien wasn't exactly a brute. He was more of a pretty boy really -- blond, blue eyes, innocent looking. But he was bigger than me. And he had friends.

"I said I was just leaving. I didn't want any trouble. He smiled and offered me his hand. I wasn't going to offer you any trouble, he said. Just a meal. Won't you join us?

"I was still nervous. But there was something about this guy you just didn't say no to. So I sat down with him. He introduced his friends, told me all about them. They were thieves, like me, and not afraid to admit it. These guys worked together. They were a team. There were only six of them, not much older than me, but they lived like they owned that town.

"I waited for Lucien to ask me to leave town. Instead, he flashed me this lopsided grin. Seven is my favorite number, he said. So we've been looking for another recruit. Maybe that could be you?

"I didn't think I had anything to lose. If it didn't work out I could leave, right? So I joined them. I fit right in. It was something special, the way we could work together, anticipate each other. I'd never had partners before. I don't mean mentors like Jarle, but real friends who were ready to stand up for me if anything went wrong.

"Not that much did. Lucien was brilliant. Some of the plans he came up with ... Well, I guess you wouldn't be impressed, God. But I was. I mean, with Lucien to lead us, there was nothing we couldn't take if we wanted it. We were unbeatable.

"I stayed there for six months. I was really happy. I was beginning to think I'd stay there forever. But there was something about Lucien I didn't learn for a long time. I guess they kept it hidden from me; they didn't want to scare me off. Then one day Lucien came up to me and said I was really one of them now. They knew they could trust me. There's something we like to do, Grantaire. Just for fun. Let off a little steam every now and then. He wouldn't tell me what it was. It's a surprise, he said. You come with us tonight, Grantaire. You'll see -- it'll be fun.

"I believed him. I thought maybe he had a really big heist planned, something a little dangerous. I've known a lot of thieves who love that kind of thing. Not me -- I like to play it safe. But I figured if that was Lucien's idea of fun, I'd go along with it. He was my friend, right?

"That night, we left town and went to this farm house. We watched the place for a long time, passing around a bottle of whiskey, not saying anything. I knew the farmer couldn't have anything worth taking. He was an old man, and the place was run down. I figured Lucien just wanted to play some kind of prank.

"We watched the place until the whiskey was gone. Then we followed Lucien into the house, as careful and quiet as if it held twenty constables instead of one lonely, old man. He was snoring when we walked into his bedroom. I think we could have made as much noise as we wanted to -- he wouldn't have woken up.

"I looked at Lucien, wondering what he wanted us to do. The full moon shone through the window, lighting up his face. I knew right away this was no harmless prank. He had this grin on his face, wide and full of teeth, like a hungry wolf. His eyes flickered back and forth, focusing on shadows the rest of us couldn't see. Lucien was insane. He was insane, and he was going to hurt the old man. That was his idea of fun.

"I should have said something right then, before they even woke the old man. But it was like I was dreaming. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I just stood there when Lucien grabbed the farmer by the neck and pulled him off the bed. The old man's eyes blinked and his arms jerked. He made some noises, maybe he said something. I couldn't understand him.

"Two guys helped Lucien drag him outside. Somebody stuffed a rag in his mouth so he couldn't scream. Me, I just followed them. I should have stopped it, God. I know I should have stopped it. I kept telling myself they wouldn't kill the man. I thought if I didn't interfere, things could go on like they'd been. I could still have friends. So I watched, thinking only of myself, while they took down the scarecrow and tied the farmer to the post. Then they started to beat the old man.

"I didn't watch. I just kept staring at the scarecrow, lying face up in the corn field. It was a ragged thing, stuffed with straw that spilled out between the holes in its tattered shirt. I looked at its eyes, little black stones that shone in the moonlight. It almost seemed alive. The whole time I could hear them pounding on the old man, its eyes looked back at me, wondering why I didn't do something to stop this.

"When they were done, Lucien put a bloody hand on my shoulder and told me next time I could help. I did look at the old man then. He drooped over the post just like the scarecrow had. His face was covered with blood, and his eyes were open. He wasn't breathing."

Grantaire realized there were tears streaming down his face. He rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hands. He was so tired.

"I left that night and never went back. I drifted from town to town for years. I always worked alone. I never accepted anyone's offer of friendship. And I never forgot about that old man. I still dream about him at night sometimes. And the scarecrow, lying in the corn field; the scarecrow is in my dreams a lot.

"It was then I started looking for ways to change my life. I figured I'd buy a tavern, settle down. If I were settled I could help people, kids like Perry. I knew nothing I did could never make up for that old man. I had resigned myself to that, living with the guilt.

"Then I met Enjolras. I had to help him, you see. I knew he was special. If living with the death of one old man I'd never known was barely tolerable, I knew letting someone like Enjolras die wouldn't be. I had to help him. I never had any choice.

"I didn't expect to care. I thought I'd do what I had to do, discharge my debt. I never meant to let him get to me. Now here I am again, calling someone my friend. He's nothing like Lucien, I know that. But it scares me. I've gotten kind of used to having him around, and I know it won't last. Every day I think, if he knew about that old farmer, he wouldn't want me here.

"And now they want to knight me. There's no way for me to stop it, unless I tell them the truth. So I guess it's up to you, God. Send Enjolras one of your visions. Tell him that I'm worse than just a thief. Make him hate me. Help me, God, because I can't do it."

Grantaire watched the candles burn down, waiting for an answer. He tried to clear his mind, like Felix had told him. But his thoughts were crowded with the faces of people he had known. At first, both friends and enemies fought for his attention. There were far more of the latter, and they were loud in their condemnation of him. He saw Fletcher, laughing at him from the grave, and Lucien, reaching out to him with bloody hands.

Gradually their faces faded away, and Grantaire was left alone with the people he cared about. Sydney, Perry, his friends from Savin. Yes, they were his friends. Was it exhaustion that made him admit that now? He was tired, too weak to protest their claims on his affection. He tried to tell them he was supposed to keep this vigil alone, but they all crowded into the tiny chapel with him. Enjolras joined them, and Felix. And his mother, who was smiling. She told him she was proud of him. Grantaire didn't have the heart to send them away. So he apologized to God for breaking the rules and spent his lonely vigil in the company of friends.

***

It was Felix who came to get him. Grantaire felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned to see the priest regarding him with some astonishment.

"You stayed awake."

"Yes. Thanks for keeping me company."

Giving him an odd look, Felix helped Grantaire to his feet. He wobbled a little, tired and weak with hunger.

"You've done well," Felix said. "Come, now. The ceremony awaits. It won't be long before you can eat and rest."

Grantaire was glad to follow Felix back to his room. He was too tired to remember the way. A warm bath awaited him. More fine garments were laid upon the bed, including a blue cloak with the unicorn embroidered on it. This time, he accepted help from Felix to get dressed.

He watched while the priest managed the difficult sash on the tunic. "Felix, I feel like I've been gone for days."

The priest smiled. "It was a long night for you."

"Yes. Is Enjolras around?"

"He's waiting to escort you to the ceremony. Don't worry, he'll be standing by your side the whole time. He'll tell you what to do."

"That's good." Grantaire remembered his conversation with the baron. "Did he talk to his father? Is everything all right with them?"

Felix had stepped back and was examining Grantaire's attire with a satisfied air. He looked up at the question, frowning. "No. I'm afraid the baron refused to speak to him. Enjolras is very upset."

Grantaire didn't like hearing this. Confronting the baron had accomplished nothing. "There has to be something we can do."

"Well, it will have to wait until after the ceremony. Come along, I'll take you to Enjolras."

If Enjolras was upset, Grantaire couldn't tell it by his greeting. He found himself met with an embrace and a proud smile. "Grantaire, you look well. Your vigil agreed with you. I trust it was enlightening?"

Had it been? Grantaire wasn't sure. He felt like a different person. Apparently, the question was rhetorical, because Enjolras didn't wait for an answer. He led Grantaire to another chapel, this one large and elaborate, with carved angels looking down from the dome ceiling. Light filtered in through stained glass windows, painting the room with a rainbow of colors.

A deep blue carpet ran up to the steps of the altar, where Felix and the baron waited. The baron stood stiffly, his expression solemn. His chain mail shirt winked like gems in the candlelight. A gold-hilted sword hung at his side. He looked more intimidating than ever. Grantaire switched his attention to Felix, who stood with his arms folded in the soft, brown sleeves of his robe. The priest gave him a reassuring smile. Grantaire took a deep breath and tried to relax. This ceremony was intended to honor him, not scare him to death.

Enjolras patted his shoulder. "Follow me," he whispered. "Don't be nervous."

That was easy for him to say. Grantaire followed Enjolras down the aisle. To clam himself, he concentrated on details -- the soft crush of carpet beneath his feet, the flickering light of candle flames, the folds of Enjolras's cloak as they shifted with his every step. When they were halfway down the aisle, the doors to the side of the altar opened, and the rest of Enjolras's family filed in. They arranged themselves at either side of the altar. They all smiled at him (Grantaire suspected that Julien's grin was more amused than welcoming), and he forced himself to smile back.

Enjolras stopped unexpectedly, and Grantaire almost ran into him. This was an embarrassing start to the ceremony. He looked around him, but only Vivien had noticed. Her kind smile seemed to say that the blunder was nothing to worry about.

Enjolras bowed to his father. "Sir, may I present Grantaire Matrice, candidate for knighthood. He has distinguished himself in service to the barony, exhibiting bravery and selflessness. He has spent the night in prayer, and been cleansed of his sins. I, Sir Enjolras D'Cheval, attest to his honor before God and these witnesses."

The baron's gaze lingered for a moment on Enjolras, and Grantaire saw his friend's shoulders stiffen. He realized now he'd been wrong -- this wasn't easy for Enjolras. What should have been a joyful occasion was marred by the tension between father and son. Grantaire's nervousness seemed foolish in comparison. He should be trying to reassure Enjolras.

The baron turned to face Grantaire. His expression softened a bit, but he still did not smile. Maybe his solemn behavior was all part of the ceremony.

"Grantaire Matrice, step forward."

He took a few steps. When nothing happened, Grantaire realized he was supposed to walk all the way up to the dais. He hurried up to join the baron.

"Grantaire, you have already earned our gratitude and our friendship. Now I ask you to pledge yourself to me, in service as a knight of Cheval. Will you do so?"

What was he supposed to say? Grantaire looked over his shoulder at Enjolras, who nodded. He turned back to the baron. The man's only reaction to Grantaire's hesitation was a slight raising of his eyebrows.

"Yes, my lord. I will."

Apparently, the answer was satisfactory. The baron ordered him to kneel. Grantaire felt the weight of the sword settle on his left shoulder.

"Grantaire Matrice, I charge you with defending your honor and the honor of those who rule this barony. From this day forward you will live a blameless life, in honorable service to myself, and to God our Father." The blade shifted to Grantaire's right shoulder. "I name you Sir Grantaire Matrice, knight of Cheval. Rise, Sir Grantaire."

Grantaire stood, grateful the ceremony was ending so quickly. That hadn't been as awkward as he'd feared.

The baron embraced him, a formal gesture. "Sir Grantaire, it is customary for a newly made knight to be granted a boon. After all that you have done for me and my people, I would take great pleasure in offering you a token of my gratitude. Ask of me and mine anything within our power, and it shall be done."

Grantaire hesitated. He'd forgotten about this part. What was he supposed to ask for? He already had Talley's Corner within his grasp -- he didn't need another tavern. He looked behind him, hoping someone would offer